So glad I spent the time to read Life of Pi again. My reactions to a book depend on where I am in my life at the time I read it. I loved this book when I first read it a few years ago. It was hard to put down. I'd carry it around in case I got a few extra minutes and could read a page or two. And the ending was a puzzlement. This time, it stayed on my bedside table, and frequently kept me up later than I intended because, despite having read it previously, I was drawn into the story like it was new to me. In a way, it was.
I didn't remember much other than the main storyline, but at this reading, something else stuck. We are infinitesimally small and insignificant and yet, at the same time, masters of our universe. Piscine Molitor Patel experienced the profound loneliness and terror of his insignificance each night and the immense power his choices and actions had to shape his destiny in the light of day. It reminded me of the end of Forrest Gump, when Forrest wonders if we each have a destiny, like his momma said, or if, as Lt. Dan put it, we were drifting around, all random, like a feather in the breeze. Of course, Forrest thinks, maybe it's both. So it is with Life of Pi, it's both, we're both insignificant and immensely powerful. Our choices mean everything. The challenge is to be aware of the moment of choice and to make conscious choices.
Being aware of the moment of decision calls to mind Socrates' questions from The Peaceful Warrior:
Where are you?
What time is it?
Read or watch The Peaceful Warrior if you aren't satisfied with your own answers to these questions.
26 September 2007
25 September 2007
By the numbers
With all the tri training and changing to a (mostly) plant-based, gluten-free diet in the spring, I was curious if it would have any effect on my cholesterol scores. People are usually surprised to hear I have high cholesterol, but such is the way of genetic inheritance. I come by it honestly, from my Dad's genes. He's tall and trim, but also has the high cholesterol. Part of the motivation behind all my athletic pursuits is a desire to avoid cholesterol meds (don't trust their safety, don't want to live with the side effects) and avoid heart problems further down the road. It's an investment in my future health, with benefits in the here and now. It helps that I enjoy being active and athletic; this stuff is fun for me.
As part of the TNT training, one of the coaches shared how changing to a vegan diet had changed his life. Hearing that someone's cancer went into remission was pretty amazing, but my interest was really piqued by the increase in energy and lessening of allergy symptoms that he experienced from dietary changes. I was willing to give it a try, even removing gluten from my diet. I'm grateful that I'm not Celiac, because going gluten-free has been the most challenging, and the area in which I'm most likely to be inconsistent. However, I have had a noticeable increase in energy. Not surprising, since for me eating pancakes is the equivalent of taking a sedative. I continued to eat oats for awhile, but noticed the same sedative effect once I'd dropped other forms of gluten. So, with some sadness, I gave away my last tin of Irish oatmeal. In addition to having more energy, I discovered that gluten was contributing to general sinus congestion and stuffiness. Within a week of going GF, my sinuses, while never a big problem, were noticeably clearer.
I took to the plant-based diet pretty readily, and made some new discoveries. Millet rocks. Cooks up similar to cous-cous, but energizes me, instead of making me sleepy. I can't imagine eating white rice by choice, much preferring the heartier taste and texture of brown rice. Quinoa is not to be eaten by itself. There are some excellent quinoa-based pastas with the texture of traditional pasta, which makes them far better than rice and corn-based GF pastas, which tend toward unappetizing mushiness. Chard tastes like dirt. Mustard greens are spicy, and not in a good way. Kale and collards have risen to the top of the greens pile to become staples. Organic greens taste better than conventionally-grown.
The ease of transitioning to the gluten-free (mostly) plant-based diet was surprising, until I remembered that as a child, I enjoyed plucking and eating young tender blades of grass, and that I liked sampling the grains in the horse feed out in the barn. I had the makings of a vegan from way back. It also helped that I was already mostly sugar and caffeine-free.
Six months after making these changes, I finally got my cholesterol checked. My total cholesterol, while still considered high, dropped 34 points; my LDL (bad cholesterol) dropped 40 points; and my HDL rose 6 points. In general, I feel better, breathe easier, and have more energy, so it looks like the changes are here to stay.
More numbers of note
Since January of this year, which had an auspicious start with an 8 mile run, I have logged the following distances:
Cycling: 1021 miles
Running: 258 miles
Swimming: 26,544 yds or 15 miles
I think it's time for a new pair of running shoes!
As part of the TNT training, one of the coaches shared how changing to a vegan diet had changed his life. Hearing that someone's cancer went into remission was pretty amazing, but my interest was really piqued by the increase in energy and lessening of allergy symptoms that he experienced from dietary changes. I was willing to give it a try, even removing gluten from my diet. I'm grateful that I'm not Celiac, because going gluten-free has been the most challenging, and the area in which I'm most likely to be inconsistent. However, I have had a noticeable increase in energy. Not surprising, since for me eating pancakes is the equivalent of taking a sedative. I continued to eat oats for awhile, but noticed the same sedative effect once I'd dropped other forms of gluten. So, with some sadness, I gave away my last tin of Irish oatmeal. In addition to having more energy, I discovered that gluten was contributing to general sinus congestion and stuffiness. Within a week of going GF, my sinuses, while never a big problem, were noticeably clearer.
I took to the plant-based diet pretty readily, and made some new discoveries. Millet rocks. Cooks up similar to cous-cous, but energizes me, instead of making me sleepy. I can't imagine eating white rice by choice, much preferring the heartier taste and texture of brown rice. Quinoa is not to be eaten by itself. There are some excellent quinoa-based pastas with the texture of traditional pasta, which makes them far better than rice and corn-based GF pastas, which tend toward unappetizing mushiness. Chard tastes like dirt. Mustard greens are spicy, and not in a good way. Kale and collards have risen to the top of the greens pile to become staples. Organic greens taste better than conventionally-grown.
The ease of transitioning to the gluten-free (mostly) plant-based diet was surprising, until I remembered that as a child, I enjoyed plucking and eating young tender blades of grass, and that I liked sampling the grains in the horse feed out in the barn. I had the makings of a vegan from way back. It also helped that I was already mostly sugar and caffeine-free.
Six months after making these changes, I finally got my cholesterol checked. My total cholesterol, while still considered high, dropped 34 points; my LDL (bad cholesterol) dropped 40 points; and my HDL rose 6 points. In general, I feel better, breathe easier, and have more energy, so it looks like the changes are here to stay.
More numbers of note
Since January of this year, which had an auspicious start with an 8 mile run, I have logged the following distances:
Cycling: 1021 miles
Running: 258 miles
Swimming: 26,544 yds or 15 miles
I think it's time for a new pair of running shoes!
09 September 2007
serendipity
I finally got to race my Olympic distance triathlon, and I couldn't have asked for a better experience. Everything fell right into place. I awoke promptly at 4:45 am, feeling rested, sharp, surprisingly calm, yet excited about racing. I gathered up my transition bag and other assorted gear and noticed happily that I was traveling far lighter than I had on Memorial Day. The weather was the best we could ask for on Labor day in Austin; overcast, around 75 degrees, with tolerable humidity.
I headed over to the race site, set up my transition area, topped off the bike tires, and chatted with some of my teammates. I was still feeling quite calm and relaxed, despite my unfamiliarity of the exact race course. The lake was just cool enough to make the swim wetsuit-legal. While I had considered grinding out the swim sans wetsuit, all it took was one person saying they always took the wetsuit advantage (thanks, Ken!) for me to throw out the idea of proving something to myself in exchange for the speed and confidence the wetsuit would afford. Town Lake (still can't get used to calling it Lady Bird Lake) looked pretty grody. Thanks to the prior week's rain, and perhaps lingering issues from the summer's flooding, it was pretty brown, and I wondered how much current was out there.
Fast forward to the race start, which was in the lake, yet another reason to be thankful for the wetsuit, because it makes it so much easier for me to tread water when I actually float! I had no idea how far out the last buoy was; the swim course was changed from a loop to an out and back. My strategy was to just keep swimming until I saw it, then just keep swimming until I got back. I survived the swim, and have to say, it wasn't that bad. My time at the halfway point was around 19 minutes, a good five minutes faster than my best half mile swim without a wetsuit, and I figure overall, wearing the wetsuit took about 10 minutes off my swim time. A couple of times I took on water and had to cough and splutter for a bit. Even if I end up with an intestinal parasite, it was totally worth it, and I say that even as I'm noticing a little digestive upset today!
Into transition, my wetsuit sleeve got stuck on my watch. I tried to muscle it off, but to no avail. I had to pull the sleeve back up, take off the watch, take off the sleeve, then put the watch back on, all while trying to catch my breath. I slowed down to dry my feet, put on socks, and gear up for the bike ride. Once on the bike, I concentrated on remembering which lap I was on, which equated to counting how many times I'd seen the capitol, and how many times I passed the dead squirrel on Cesar Chavez. Loop courses are interesting because you never know what lap other people are on when they pass you, or you pass them. I managed to pass a few people, but the most fun people to pass were the TNT folks at the run course water stop on Cesar Chavez. I saw them twice each bike loop and we'd exchange shouts and cheers for each other. I felt so blessed to have the opportunity to train with and get to know such a great group of people this year. They gave me a boost of energy each time I rode by.
It was also cool seeing my fellow teammates all over the race course. I cheered them on each time I saw them, giving high fives when I could. Into transition for the run, I needed to take a bathroom break, a sure sign I was not dehydrated! As soon as I crossed the timing mat into the run, I took a little detour for the porta can. No way was I gonna run 6 miles on a full bladder. All the brick training we'd done this year really paid off. No longer does it feel awkward to transition from the bike to the run. I just have to let myself start slow enough to catch my breath, then work up to race pace. The run never really felt comfortable, but I think I was grinning the whole way, just happy to be out there racing. I was delighted to see another TNT water stop by Jack & Adams Bicycles. I stopped to walk briefly and take water at almost every pass of a water stop. I had no idea of my pace, but considering the water stops and the potty break, I was surprised to check my watch and see 2:50 as I came over the S. 1st street bridge for the last time. I was hoping to finish in under 3 hours, and I was easily on target. I even had energy to sprint like a bandit for the finish line, coming in at just over 2:52. I felt jubilant and triumphant, pun intended.
This was my last triathlon for the year, and it was my best race all year. The other races all had their high points, and each taught me something valuable about myself. Cap Tex - having something to race for is more important than racing; Danskin - it's rewarding to include my family in my life; Disco - placing isn't everything, but it's ok (and fun) to do well; Couples - racing with friends is fun, having friends to train and race with is priceless; Jack's Generic - volunteering is as fun as racing; Darnd'st Du - sometimes even the things I love to do are difficult, keep going, even when it's tough.
The Austin Tri taught me that I really can accomplish a goal that I set for myself. Crossing that finish line marks the end of a journey, and the moment itself is gone, but the miles I literally and figuratively traveled to arrive, and the friends I gained, will always be a part of me. Looking back, in the process of reaching my goal of completing an Olympic distance tri, so much more happened in my life than I expected, and for that I am grateful.
I headed over to the race site, set up my transition area, topped off the bike tires, and chatted with some of my teammates. I was still feeling quite calm and relaxed, despite my unfamiliarity of the exact race course. The lake was just cool enough to make the swim wetsuit-legal. While I had considered grinding out the swim sans wetsuit, all it took was one person saying they always took the wetsuit advantage (thanks, Ken!) for me to throw out the idea of proving something to myself in exchange for the speed and confidence the wetsuit would afford. Town Lake (still can't get used to calling it Lady Bird Lake) looked pretty grody. Thanks to the prior week's rain, and perhaps lingering issues from the summer's flooding, it was pretty brown, and I wondered how much current was out there.
Fast forward to the race start, which was in the lake, yet another reason to be thankful for the wetsuit, because it makes it so much easier for me to tread water when I actually float! I had no idea how far out the last buoy was; the swim course was changed from a loop to an out and back. My strategy was to just keep swimming until I saw it, then just keep swimming until I got back. I survived the swim, and have to say, it wasn't that bad. My time at the halfway point was around 19 minutes, a good five minutes faster than my best half mile swim without a wetsuit, and I figure overall, wearing the wetsuit took about 10 minutes off my swim time. A couple of times I took on water and had to cough and splutter for a bit. Even if I end up with an intestinal parasite, it was totally worth it, and I say that even as I'm noticing a little digestive upset today!
Into transition, my wetsuit sleeve got stuck on my watch. I tried to muscle it off, but to no avail. I had to pull the sleeve back up, take off the watch, take off the sleeve, then put the watch back on, all while trying to catch my breath. I slowed down to dry my feet, put on socks, and gear up for the bike ride. Once on the bike, I concentrated on remembering which lap I was on, which equated to counting how many times I'd seen the capitol, and how many times I passed the dead squirrel on Cesar Chavez. Loop courses are interesting because you never know what lap other people are on when they pass you, or you pass them. I managed to pass a few people, but the most fun people to pass were the TNT folks at the run course water stop on Cesar Chavez. I saw them twice each bike loop and we'd exchange shouts and cheers for each other. I felt so blessed to have the opportunity to train with and get to know such a great group of people this year. They gave me a boost of energy each time I rode by.
It was also cool seeing my fellow teammates all over the race course. I cheered them on each time I saw them, giving high fives when I could. Into transition for the run, I needed to take a bathroom break, a sure sign I was not dehydrated! As soon as I crossed the timing mat into the run, I took a little detour for the porta can. No way was I gonna run 6 miles on a full bladder. All the brick training we'd done this year really paid off. No longer does it feel awkward to transition from the bike to the run. I just have to let myself start slow enough to catch my breath, then work up to race pace. The run never really felt comfortable, but I think I was grinning the whole way, just happy to be out there racing. I was delighted to see another TNT water stop by Jack & Adams Bicycles. I stopped to walk briefly and take water at almost every pass of a water stop. I had no idea of my pace, but considering the water stops and the potty break, I was surprised to check my watch and see 2:50 as I came over the S. 1st street bridge for the last time. I was hoping to finish in under 3 hours, and I was easily on target. I even had energy to sprint like a bandit for the finish line, coming in at just over 2:52. I felt jubilant and triumphant, pun intended.
This was my last triathlon for the year, and it was my best race all year. The other races all had their high points, and each taught me something valuable about myself. Cap Tex - having something to race for is more important than racing; Danskin - it's rewarding to include my family in my life; Disco - placing isn't everything, but it's ok (and fun) to do well; Couples - racing with friends is fun, having friends to train and race with is priceless; Jack's Generic - volunteering is as fun as racing; Darnd'st Du - sometimes even the things I love to do are difficult, keep going, even when it's tough.
The Austin Tri taught me that I really can accomplish a goal that I set for myself. Crossing that finish line marks the end of a journey, and the moment itself is gone, but the miles I literally and figuratively traveled to arrive, and the friends I gained, will always be a part of me. Looking back, in the process of reaching my goal of completing an Olympic distance tri, so much more happened in my life than I expected, and for that I am grateful.
06 September 2007
Just Du It
I raced another duathlon in August, and the heat was pretty brutal. After dealing with four flats in as many bike rides the week prior, I was just hoping I'd gotten all the tube-puncturing glass out of my rear tire and that the dollar bill I'd used to line the tire would bring me a little luck. My tires held up fine, but I regretted leaving my cycling gloves at home. The time I saved not having to take them on and off was not worth the difficulty I had shifting gears with sweaty hands. There were times when I stood up in the pedals to climb hills where it was all I could do to keep my hands on the handlebars. Lesson learned. I was glad I took a teammate's advice to check out the race course the weekend prior. It helped to know I had some monster hills to look forward to. The first 5K of the race was the toughest. My pace was good, but I'd tapered too much the week before and felt sluggish. For part of the run I questioned why I was even out there, which is highly unusual for me. Fortunately those thoughts vanished when I got on the bike, and I finished strong on the last 5K, adding less than 30 seconds per mile to my run pace. I was pleased to finish 6th in my age group, and that I found enough reserves to sprint to the finish. Back in July, I'd overtrained prior to the Couples Tri and flatly refused to race for the finish line when challenged, which was also highly unusual for me. My legs had nothing left because I'd spent my reserves on an 18 mile bike ride the day before.
Conclusion: If Transition is the "fourth sport" Tapering is the "fifth"
Conclusion: If Transition is the "fourth sport" Tapering is the "fifth"
31 August 2007
Tri-Ooomph
July saw me compete in my first duathlon and another sprint triathlon. Both were great fun, and I performed well. The Disco Duathlon was supposed to be our TNT group's Olympic-distance tri to make up for the cancelled CapTexTri. Due to the 40 days/40 nights weather we'd had, Lake Ray Roberts was closed to recreational activities, and the 1 mile swim was replaced with a 2 mile run. I was ecstatic, to say the least. I've been running for over 20 years (off and on), but not until this year's training did I discover that it's my best (and favorite) of the triathlon sports. Good thing, because I need something to makeup for my slow swimming. I'd succumbed to a cold the week before the race, and had to take a couple Sudafed so I could breathe the morning of the race, so, I was only running at 80%. Still, I placed second in my age group, and had a really fun time.
The following week, I raced in the Couple's Tri with one of my TNT friends. It's a fun format - both members of the team do the sprint tri course, then they combine your ages and times for your final score. We were in the over 80 age group, a tough category, and placed 11th. Once again, I had an open water swim to face. This one was 800 meters, slightly longer than the Danskin swim distance. I followed my strategy of hanging back at the start so I didn't have the added anxiety of being jostled by other swimmers. I was the very last person to start the swim in my wave. Slow and steady is my swim pace, but I was past the first buoy before any swimmers from the next wave passed me. I think I even passed one or two swimmers from my wave. Most importantly, I felt confident and strong throughout the swim. No panic, no anxiety, no thoughts that I couldn't or wouldn't make it. Since that was the second time to feel that good swimming the half mile, I take it that I've crossed the mental barrier I've had about open water swimming. That is definitely a triumph for me. I am exceedingly grateful to the TNT swim coaches and everyone who's told me I could do it. I'm a swimmer.
I finished in less than 1.5 hours, which was a course record for me. I've raced the Decker Lake sprint tri course four times, plus twice as a relay, and am ready to experience a new triathlon course. I'll get that opportunity Monday in the Austin Tri. I'm nervous about the swim again, since it's twice the distance I'm comfortable with. I did a mile at Quarry Lake last Friday, just to make sure I could do the distance, and that second half mile was tough. I've considered renting a shorty wetsuit for the weekend, but I'm really wanting the challenge of this swim, on my own, unaided by the extra buoyancy of neoprene. My swim coach mentioned Dorie from "Finding Nemo" at practice last week and I'll have to "just keep swimming...just keep swimming..."
The following week, I raced in the Couple's Tri with one of my TNT friends. It's a fun format - both members of the team do the sprint tri course, then they combine your ages and times for your final score. We were in the over 80 age group, a tough category, and placed 11th. Once again, I had an open water swim to face. This one was 800 meters, slightly longer than the Danskin swim distance. I followed my strategy of hanging back at the start so I didn't have the added anxiety of being jostled by other swimmers. I was the very last person to start the swim in my wave. Slow and steady is my swim pace, but I was past the first buoy before any swimmers from the next wave passed me. I think I even passed one or two swimmers from my wave. Most importantly, I felt confident and strong throughout the swim. No panic, no anxiety, no thoughts that I couldn't or wouldn't make it. Since that was the second time to feel that good swimming the half mile, I take it that I've crossed the mental barrier I've had about open water swimming. That is definitely a triumph for me. I am exceedingly grateful to the TNT swim coaches and everyone who's told me I could do it. I'm a swimmer.
I finished in less than 1.5 hours, which was a course record for me. I've raced the Decker Lake sprint tri course four times, plus twice as a relay, and am ready to experience a new triathlon course. I'll get that opportunity Monday in the Austin Tri. I'm nervous about the swim again, since it's twice the distance I'm comfortable with. I did a mile at Quarry Lake last Friday, just to make sure I could do the distance, and that second half mile was tough. I've considered renting a shorty wetsuit for the weekend, but I'm really wanting the challenge of this swim, on my own, unaided by the extra buoyancy of neoprene. My swim coach mentioned Dorie from "Finding Nemo" at practice last week and I'll have to "just keep swimming...just keep swimming..."
29 June 2007
Tri and Tri Again
My previous post didn't really register the depth of disappointment I felt at the cancellation of the CapTexTri. But, to paraphrase Yoda, (I think, I haven't seen any of the Star Wars films in their entirety, but someone from TNT shared this quote with me) "There is no try, only do." So, earlier this month, my mother & I completed the Danskin Triathlon as a relay team. A bunch of the other TNT women raced, and a bunch of people from the team came out to cheer everyone on. It was a blast, and really helped me move forward after CapTex. I had a great opportunity to experience open water swimming at a whole new comfort and confidence level, and push myself on the bike. The 5k was my mom's leg of the race, and as I had promised, I walked every step with her. I had a lot of fun, and she did, too. We got to cheer a few of the TNT women who passed us along the way, got sprayed with icy cold water (quite the chilly surprise) from giant water guns at one of the water stops, and stopped to wait while one of the event photographers reloaded his camera so he could get pictures of us. It was so awesome to see our TNT teammates at the finish line and for mom & I to get high-fives from all of them. Her first words after crossing the finish were, "When is the next one?" I don't know if she remembers that, though!
I've got two more tris on the schedule for next month. I'm most anxious about the Disco, because it is a mile swim, sans wetsuit. I liken my wetsuit to Dumbo's red feather. It's not what enables me to swim, but wearing it sure helps me feel more confident. Everyone keeps telling me I can do this swim, but I have to learn to believe it. And I've got about a week to make it happen.
Here's a happy finish line photo:
I've got two more tris on the schedule for next month. I'm most anxious about the Disco, because it is a mile swim, sans wetsuit. I liken my wetsuit to Dumbo's red feather. It's not what enables me to swim, but wearing it sure helps me feel more confident. Everyone keeps telling me I can do this swim, but I have to learn to believe it. And I've got about a week to make it happen.
Here's a happy finish line photo:
04 June 2007
By now, most of you have heard that the triathlon I'd spent three months training for was cancelled because of weather. Thank you to those of you who have called or emailed to tell me how sorry you were that I wasn't able to race. I was extremely disappointed, and your sympathy meant so much to me. What follows is a synopsis of the morning of the race, and what being a part of this training group and raising money to fight cancer has meant to me. Here's a link to an 8 minute video of how our team made the most of that morning. If you read no further, at least watch a few minutes of our extraordinary team.
This was the first time in the Cap Tex Tri's 16 year history that they had to cancel. They first announced that the swim was canceled at 6:08 am, and planned to wait until 7:30 to make a final decision about the rest of the event. At 6:10am, I was huddled in the Team in Training tent with my teammates, hoping for the rain to let up, and wound up like a top, ready to race. If the race went on, they would replace the swim with a 5K run, to make it a duathlon. In the past, I would've been excited about that change, because running is my strongest event, but this year, my heart sank when they cancelled the swim, because I'd worked so hard to improve, and felt confident, if not fast, in the water. I'd even done a few laps in the pool on Sunday afternoon, just for fun, and to work out some pre-race nervous energy.
So, as my teammates and I waited for an update, chatting with each other about race details and comparing notes on pre-race anxiety, I looked around at all these wonderful people that I'd spent the last three months training with. Some of them were supposed to complete their very first triathlon that day. I admired their courage, remembering how scared and anxious I was before my first triathlon, which was only a sprint distance race. Some of them were cancer survivors, and I admired their refusal to let a disease define them. Several of them had raised more than $10,000 to fight blood cancer. I admired their dedication to the cause. All of us had our own personal reasons to be there, and all of us were eager to race. If the race had not been cancelled, I have no doubt that every one of us would have gone out and had a good time, and finished proudly.
Our head coach, Adam, stood up to give us a pep talk to remind us that the finish line was just another milepost along the journey, that the important part was the training and the fundraising that we'd worked so hard on for so many months, and that whether or not the race went on, that this would not be the last or only tri for any of us, and that the work we had done was the important part. He asked us, considering the possibility of a cancellation, who would be interested in doing a 5K as a team, along the race course. To a person, we said yes. At that moment, word came around that the race had been cancelled.
We all agreed that it was the safest decision for everyone, but we were all very disappointed, nonetheless. Still, moments later, everyone started rummaging about for their running shoes, and getting ready for our 5K. We ran one loop of the run course as a team - an army of 50 in our purple and green Team in Training jerseys, stomping through puddles, and whooping and hollering as we went. Our coaches and mentors took up a spot at Congress and Cesar Chavez and cheered wildly as we passed. We had the race course all to ourselves, even the Marines had gone home.
Everyone crossed the finish line to high-fives and cheers for our fellow teammates. The event photographer was so impressed with our spirit that they got their equipment out and took group photos of the team. The only photographs taken at the event. Yes, we wanted to race, and yes, we are disappointed that the triathlon was cancelled. But, we had fun, and made the most of a disappointing circumstance. Most importantly, we did something together, as a team, and lived the spirit of Team in Training. Our coaches somehow managed to get us finishers medals, which they handed out at our victory celebration; the only finishers medals given out this year. I have several of those from other triathlons I've completed, but this is the one I'm most proud of. It's not about the race.
Thank you so much for your support along my journey with Team In Training. I plan to sign up for another endurance event with TNT, and perhaps this time it will be a half-Ironman triathlon. Next up for me is the Danskin sprint triathlon, which I will do in a relay with my mother. I'll swim and bike, then we'll walk the 5K together. I'm still figuring out which Olympic distance event I want to do, and will keep you posted.
This was the first time in the Cap Tex Tri's 16 year history that they had to cancel. They first announced that the swim was canceled at 6:08 am, and planned to wait until 7:30 to make a final decision about the rest of the event. At 6:10am, I was huddled in the Team in Training tent with my teammates, hoping for the rain to let up, and wound up like a top, ready to race. If the race went on, they would replace the swim with a 5K run, to make it a duathlon. In the past, I would've been excited about that change, because running is my strongest event, but this year, my heart sank when they cancelled the swim, because I'd worked so hard to improve, and felt confident, if not fast, in the water. I'd even done a few laps in the pool on Sunday afternoon, just for fun, and to work out some pre-race nervous energy.
So, as my teammates and I waited for an update, chatting with each other about race details and comparing notes on pre-race anxiety, I looked around at all these wonderful people that I'd spent the last three months training with. Some of them were supposed to complete their very first triathlon that day. I admired their courage, remembering how scared and anxious I was before my first triathlon, which was only a sprint distance race. Some of them were cancer survivors, and I admired their refusal to let a disease define them. Several of them had raised more than $10,000 to fight blood cancer. I admired their dedication to the cause. All of us had our own personal reasons to be there, and all of us were eager to race. If the race had not been cancelled, I have no doubt that every one of us would have gone out and had a good time, and finished proudly.
Our head coach, Adam, stood up to give us a pep talk to remind us that the finish line was just another milepost along the journey, that the important part was the training and the fundraising that we'd worked so hard on for so many months, and that whether or not the race went on, that this would not be the last or only tri for any of us, and that the work we had done was the important part. He asked us, considering the possibility of a cancellation, who would be interested in doing a 5K as a team, along the race course. To a person, we said yes. At that moment, word came around that the race had been cancelled.
We all agreed that it was the safest decision for everyone, but we were all very disappointed, nonetheless. Still, moments later, everyone started rummaging about for their running shoes, and getting ready for our 5K. We ran one loop of the run course as a team - an army of 50 in our purple and green Team in Training jerseys, stomping through puddles, and whooping and hollering as we went. Our coaches and mentors took up a spot at Congress and Cesar Chavez and cheered wildly as we passed. We had the race course all to ourselves, even the Marines had gone home.
Everyone crossed the finish line to high-fives and cheers for our fellow teammates. The event photographer was so impressed with our spirit that they got their equipment out and took group photos of the team. The only photographs taken at the event. Yes, we wanted to race, and yes, we are disappointed that the triathlon was cancelled. But, we had fun, and made the most of a disappointing circumstance. Most importantly, we did something together, as a team, and lived the spirit of Team in Training. Our coaches somehow managed to get us finishers medals, which they handed out at our victory celebration; the only finishers medals given out this year. I have several of those from other triathlons I've completed, but this is the one I'm most proud of. It's not about the race.
Thank you so much for your support along my journey with Team In Training. I plan to sign up for another endurance event with TNT, and perhaps this time it will be a half-Ironman triathlon. Next up for me is the Danskin sprint triathlon, which I will do in a relay with my mother. I'll swim and bike, then we'll walk the 5K together. I'm still figuring out which Olympic distance event I want to do, and will keep you posted.
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